


A House Made Whole

by maddog3706



Series: Truly Your Father's Son [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Arguments, Canon Compliant, Childbirth, Getting Back Together, Harry Potter Next Generation, High Harry, M/M, Morning Kisses, Mutual Pining, Sort Of, The Weasley Gang, Weddings, mostly - Freeform, no beta we die like oliver wood after losing to hufflepuff, not graphic and not drarry though, not like actually high just sleep deprived, past implied Drarry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 07:20:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28684713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maddog3706/pseuds/maddog3706
Summary: Draco and Harry were perfectly fine not speaking to each other for decades. Really. However, it turns out having your sons get married is a great way to interrupt your sworn hatred. Albus and Scorpius have a surprise, Hermione is a little too invested in Harry’s sex life, Pansy isn’t buying anyone’s BS, James knows something is up, and Molly thinks everything would be fixed if everyone could just finish their third servings.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Scorpius Malfoy/Albus Severus Potter
Series: Truly Your Father's Son [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2025242
Comments: 6
Kudos: 68





	A House Made Whole

**Author's Note:**

> Hi friends!  
> First of all, thank you for all the support on my last fic. I honestly didn’t expect anyone to like it so thank you to everyone who left kudos/comments, you mean the world to me :)  
> Second of all, while the format of this fic is similar to Spitting Image, this sequel has a little bit of a different tone. There’s more dialogue, Harry is our narrator, and obviously, I can’t keep drawing Drarry/Scorbus comparisons since their relationships are going in pretty different directions at this point. Either way, there is a cameo by the whole Weasley family and more flustered Ron, so I hope you enjoy it. This fic is also not beta read, but all my fics are extensively edited by yours truly (and Grammarly), so don’t worry.  
> Enjoy!

_ Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy don’t speak to each other. _

No one alive for the Second Wizarding War has much hate left in them anymore. Harry and Malfoy don’t truly hate anyone except Voldemort, so they each settle for strong mutual dislike. Of course, their sons had to go and get engaged, but that doesn't have to affect them. Not at all.

Albus and Scorpius are sitting at Harry’s dining table, drinking tea and explaining the entire fiasco in great detail to Harry. Their dining room is still a ‘work in progress’ according to Scorpius, so they’re at Grimmauld Place. Harry’s enjoying every minute of it that he can get, though, since neither his son nor his son’s boyfriend has spoken to him in a good four months.

“Oh, and Dad, Mr. Malfoy says he’s sorry. I asked what for but he wouldn’t tell me, and he didn’t look like he wanted to talk about it. He just said, ‘He’ll know.’” Albus says, making a face. Scorpius looks only mildly surprised as if he hasn’t heard this before either but wouldn’t put it past his dad.

Harry frowns. “I’ll know?” he asks. Malfoy has a lot to apologize to him for. The only question was, did he mean bullying him and his friends for six years before joining the Death Eaters? Or, did he mean cruelly breaking up with Harry five years after that, simply to please his father again? Honestly, when was the last time that had worked out for Malfoy?

“Yeah,” says Albus, breaking through the fog of Harry’s thoughts. “What do you think he meant?”

“Well,” starts Harry. He sighs. He and Ginny had agreed years ago not to tell their kids about their previous relationships, since most of their ex-lovers had children going to Hogwarts around the same time as their James, Albus, and Lily. They didn’t want their children to go into school with any of the same prejudices that they did. 

Unfortunately, the dating pool in Wizarding Britain is not large. 

“There’s a lot of things he might have meant. He… wasn’t very nice to me, Hermione, or Ron during school, and the last time we spoke, it didn’t end on a nice note,” Harry answers tentatively.

Scorpius takes a sip of his tea. “I mean, ever since that whole arranged marriage disaster that ended literally last week, he’s been going on a huge ‘self-improvement journey’,” Scorpius explains, putting the last part in air quotes. “Knowing him, he’s probably trying to prove himself to Albus and apologize to me or something. Hindsight and reparation was always his thing, rather than thinking very critically at the moment.”

Albus snorts at that. “Oh well. I guess it’s all fine now, right?”

“Yeah,” says Scorpius, resting his arm on Albus’s shoulder as he turns around to read the clock on top of Harry’s fireplace. “Oh, shoot. We have carpenters coming in five minutes to fix our stupid kitchen cupboard, haven’t we?” he says, setting his mug down.

Albus glances backward at the time too. “Oh, yeah. Hopefully, we actually sleep tonight without its endless whining. If we’re lucky, the ferret will stop complaining about it as well.” He cracks a smile, but Harry doesn’t think the bags under his eyes are looking too happy about the situation.

“Bye, Harry,” Scorpius says, grabbing his coat and stepping toward the floo. 

“Bye, Scorpius,” Harry says, though his eyes don’t meet Scorpius’s.

Scorpius throws a handful of green powder into the fireplace, steps in, and says, “The Potter-Malfoy Flat, Bristol.” He disappears in a woosh of green flames.

“Bye, dad. Thanks for all this,” Albus says quickly, looking a little uncomfortable.

“Of course,” Harry says, gesturing vaguely around the room. Albus gives him a small smile before flooing back to their new flat after his fiancé.

Harry swirls the last dregs of his tea around in the bottom of his mug. As if this year’s revised Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson plans weren’t taking up enough brain space, he now has to deal with the fact that Malfoy has apologized to him. He looks at the bottom of his cup. The tea leaves there are arranged in the pattern of a slightly lopsided heart. Harry laughs louder than he has in a long time.

_ Draco Malfoy is sorry? That’s a new one,  _ he thinks. He’s sure the elated feeling in his chest is merely surprise and nothing more, and it’s only there because Harry never thought he’d see this day for the rest of his life.

  
  


_ Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy watch their sons get married. _

Harry’s never seen Malfoy in a gray suit before. He insisted on wearing a three-piece black suit during school when he wasn’t in class from fourth year onwards, ever since that disastrous World Cup. He went so far as to fight the Battle of Hogwarts in it. Harry wonders what Narcissa had to say about that. That can’t have been a cheap dry cleaning bill. Do wizards even dry clean their clothes? Harry wouldn’t know.

Black suits aside, Harry thinks this color is rather more flattering on Malfoy. From a fashion stance, of course. Harry likes to think that his fashion sense has improved somewhat since his school days, after all.

Malfoy is looking a little stiff, sitting ramrod straight in his chair at the front row of the chapel and sniffing occasionally. Ginny and Luna are sitting between them, Ginny next to Harry, and Astoria’s necklace is draped over the arm of the chair on the left side of Malfoy. Harry supposes he can excuse Malfoy, then, for looking like he has a stick up an unpleasant place. Harry thinks Malfoy misses Astoria, as strange as it sounds to say. Does Malfoy miss him?

Harry comes back to his senses when he feels Ginny elbow him. She’s holding a tissue in her hand, and she whispers, “Here.”

Harry blinks and realizes that he’s crying for the second time that day. He’s not sure when that happened. 

“It doesn’t have any Wrackspurts in it, you know,” Ginny says, “Luna checked for us this morning.”

Harry smiles at that. “Thanks,” he whispers and takes the tissue.

His sons are crying too. Albus looks over the moon as he slides another ring onto Scorpius’s finger. James, their best man, is wiping at his eyes, though Harry knows he will deny this later. Lily’s eyes look a little brighter than usual, but mostly she looks elated for her big brother. She’s always been able to stay calm in most situations, just like her mother.

Speaking of which, Harry is happy for Ginny, even though some people think it’s strange. Their divorce was a long time coming, and Ginny realizing she was lesbian was only the last step. It hadn’t felt the same since a few years after Lily Luna was born, anyway. If Harry’s honest, the weirdest part for him is that his daughter is named after his ex-wife’s new partner. Although, Harry supposes he owed Ginny one name since he chose all the others.

“Through the power invested in me by the Ministry, I hereby pronounce you wedded men,” the officiant says. The guests cheer as Albus kisses Scorpius again and again, grinning broadly.

Ginny squeezes Harry’s hand. “There goes our son,” she whispers. “All grown up.”

Harry smiles. “Not all the way, hopefully.”

Ginny laughs at that, then nods to the officiant. “Before we adjourn to the reception area, Ms. Weasley-Lovegood would like to make an announcement,” he says.

“What are you announcing?” Harry asks.

“Clock,” is all Ginny whispers. Harry wants to know what clock she’s talking about but doesn’t have the time to ask because Ginny is already walking briskly to the front of the church.

“Scorpius,” she starts, reaching into her handbag for a thin, black box. It looks sort of like the ones in Ollivander’s. “I would like to formally welcome you to the ever-expanding Weasley family.”

“Thanks,” Scorpius says cheerfully, taking the box. He opens it and pulls out a spoon that says  _ Scorpius _ in bold script, with a picture of him smiling in the round part. “A spoon?” he says, somewhat confused.

“For the family clock,” Ginny says warmly.

“Wait. THE clock?” Scorpius asks, understanding starting to glow on his face.

“ _ The _ clock,” Ginny says, eyes twinkling.

“Thank you so much,” Scorpius says, throwing his arms around Ginny. Albus is grinning like a maniac and blinking a lot, and Harry feels a rush of warmth flood his chest. Ron cheers loudly.

No descendant of the House of Black has ever been known to have any chill, and the Potter family has quite the diva streak of its own. Naturally, the reception, hosted in one of the many ballrooms at Malfoy Manor, is the biggest party of the year. Harry’s not sure what time it is. However, he’s had one or two drinks more than he should have at this point (which means everyone else is further), and he isn’t bothered. His head is full of a pleasant buzz as he surveys the crowd.

There aren’t a lot of people present, but it’s enough to offer a glimpse into the parties that were once held in this ballroom. There are simple white and silver decorations on all the tables and hanging from the ceilings, and some tables set up with an open bar, a rather large cake, and other assorted desserts.

Ginny, always iridescently content, has been giggling with Luna in a corner ever since the mother-son dances finished. Or, in Scorpius’s case, the grandmother-son dance (as if Narcissa would pass up an opportunity like that). Right now, Narcissa and Lucius are sitting primly at their assigned table. Lucius looks like the very presence of so many redheads makes him want to scream, but Narcissa looks quietly pleased to be there.

Albus and Scorpius are all but making out on the edge of the dance floor, and their cousins are screaming and shouting in a group nearby. Lily’s dancing wildly with her best friend, Serena; James is animatedly gesturing and explaining something to his fiancé Calea; Teddy and Victoire are taking turns dancing Jocelynn around, and Rose’s girlfriend, Amelié, is trying to teach her the macarena, even though that’s not the song playing at the moment.

Malfoy, who started the evening chatting with Blaise Zabini and his wife, Tracey Davis, is now being aggressively whirled around the dance floor by Pansy Parkinson. Malfoy doesn’t look like he’s enjoying it all that much, but his suit jacket has come off at some point throughout the evening and his sleeves are rolled up, so Harry’s isn’t complaining. He thinks the flush on Malfoy’s face is rather flattering. That view is  _ really _ easy on the eyes. Maybe they can be friends now, given Malfoy’s apology.

“Potter!” Harry hears and jerks slightly. Parkinson is pointing at him with a very sharp nail. “Come here.”

Harry, lacking the logic to decline at this point, stands up slowly, wondering just what he’s getting himself into.

“Please,” Parkinson says, “tell me you know how to do the Cha-Cha Slide.”

Harry snorts. “I guess I do. The instructions are literally in the music, right?”

“That’s what I said!” Parkinson says. “See, Draco, you’re literally the only person on the face of this planet who doesn’t know the Cha-Cha Slide.”

“Well, Pansy, maybe if someone was actually capable of teaching anything to anyone, we wouldn’t be in this situation.”

“You know who’s a teacher now? Potter.”

“So is Longbottom, I don’t exactly see you dragging him over here to teach me.”

“Oh, so now you want Longbottom to teach you to dance?”

“Will you please just—”

Parkinson whirls around to face Harry, cutting Malfoy off. “Why did you and Longbottom quit the Aurors to teach anyway? I’ve been meaning to ask you for ages.” She smiles devilishly, and Harry thinks this will likely end up in a Witch Weekly column by tomorrow morning, but he’s been wanting to get this off his shoulders for a while now. He’s also… tipsy.

Harry shrugs. “I think we both had our fill of fighting Death Eaters in the war. There’s a lot of pressure, though, to keep doing that, as you saw with the press response to our quitting. Plus, I like teaching. If Dumbledore’s Army had continued,” Harry says, glancing sideways at Malfoy, “I might have reached that conclusion sooner.”

“Shame you were so busy being infatuated with Chang,” Malfoy says, looking everywhere but Harry’s face. “I mean, let’s be honest here, you both missed Diggory a little too much, didn’t you?”

Harry flushes and Parkinson snorts. “Teach him to dance, will you, Potter? I’ve had enough of this banter, clandestine as it may be. Tracey’s invited her very attractive, very  _ single _ bartender friend. I have women to seduce, you know. Alcohol isn’t free. Ta.”

A moment of silence passes between the two before Malfoy says, “I don’t need you to teach me, you know, Potter. This is just Pansy’s stupid attempt to—” He stops abruptly.

“Attempt to what?” Harry asks.

“Nothing,” Malfoy says, with a ghost of his old sneer.

“Okay,” says Harry. “Everyone else seems occupied, though. May as well dance anyway, no?”

Malfoy looks at him skeptically. “So this is how you got all the ladies for the Yule Ball, huh? No wonder Patil looked like she wanted to strangle you the entire time.”

Harry snorts. “Aren’t you the one who just mentioned Cedric and Cho?”

Malfoy sniffs, looking Harry up and down once. “Fine, Potter. I will dance with you.” Harry grins and holds out his hand.

Another drink… or two… or maybe three later, he’s pretty sure that whatever he and Draco are doing is not classified as dancing anymore, but Albus and Scorpius have been suspiciously absent for a while now, so who is there to care anymore? Harry pushes everyone and everything else away for the adrenaline rush that he’s always gotten being this close to Draco.

  
  


_ Regrettably, Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter speak to each other. _

Regret does not even begin to cover how much Harry wishes he could take back most of the events of last night. He sits up, rubbing his head. There’s too much alcohol in his system and not enough space in his brain for logical thinking. What was he thinking, dancing like  _ that _ with Malfoy? Anyone could have seen him, and he knows how things ended the last time they were even in the same room. He knows what will happen if they start acting… friendly to each other again. What were they thinking? Why couldn’t Malfoy have kept himself and his unbearable friends from interfering with Harry’s life yet again?  _ Yes _ , he concludes.  _ As usual, this is all Malfoy’s fault. _

Between thoughts of Malfoy’s undoubted evil and berating himself for being so stupid, Harry finds himself in the shower. He furiously tries to scrub the smell of alcohol out of him, but after fifteen minutes of stewing he gives up and aggressively makes tea instead.

“Why am I such an idiot?” he asks no one in particular, pouring so much hot water into his mug it almost overflows. He takes a sip of the burning liquid to try and prevent the inevitable spillage, but he recoils quickly and settles for pouring some down the sink instead.

“Well, perhaps if Master was not being so influenced by young master Black and his hooligan friends, Master would not be having this predicament,” Kreacher grumbles from the other end of the kitchen.

“This has absolutely nothing to do with Sirius,” Harry says, slamming the box of tea leaves back into the cupboard. “What could Sirius possibly have to do with this?”

“That is exactly what young master Black would be saying,” Kreacher mumbles, shuffling into the laundry room. 

Harry sighs heavily, drumming his hands on the table as he waits for his tea to steep. “Could you hurry up?” he asks his mug.

Kreacher wearily snaps his fingers, and suddenly Harry’s tea is the right color. He blinks in surprise. “Thanks,” he says and takes a sip.

“If Master wants Kreacher’s real opinion on whatever idiotic thing Master has done this time… ” Kreacher says slowly.

“Yes?” Harry asks, hitting his mug on the dining room table. “Spit it out, Kreacher. I haven’t got all day.”

“Go speak to whoever it is Master has embarrassed himself in front of this time,” Kreacher replies wearily. “Or spare Kreacher the incessant rambling.”

Harry looks at the ripples in his mug. “The apparition wards at Malfoy Manor—” he starts, then stops. Malfoy had changed the wards for the wedding reception last night, and there’s no way he could have changed it back already if he’s as hungover as Harry is. “Thanks, Kreacher,” he says, surprised. “Maybe I will.” 

Kreacher wanders away, complaining about ungrateful masters and all the years he’s had to toil away for masters with no respect, but Harry barely hears him. This has got to be the worst idea he’s ever gone through with, but oh well. His head hurts too much to weigh the consequences the way Hermione’s been teaching him ever since he had kids. 

He finds himself ten minutes later, standing in his entrance hall with his coat and jacket on. He braces himself, mentally pictures the entrance gates to Malfoy Manor, and feels his insides suck in upon themselves, spinning him rapidly through time and space.

He feels solid ground under his feet moments later and is mildly surprised that he’s even managed to get here. The gates sense the presence of someone and start screeching to the right. Harry’s Auror training makes him think that this isn’t the best safety model for this particular establishment, but then he remembers the wedding. Staggering only slightly through the fog in his head, shaken up even more by the apparition, he makes his way up to the massive french doors. Right as he’s about to step onto the porch, a fluffy white blob bolts up to him and starts preening near his right leg.

“Hey, buddy,” Harry says, leaning down. The white peacock looks up at him, and Harry knows he remembers. “Collin, right?” he asks, and the peacock ruffles his feathers. 

Harry smiles. Collin had just been a chick when Harry had lived at the manor. He remembers Draco’s smile the afternoon they’d met him, an ugly little thing bolting around after its mother. But the peacocks at Malfoy Manor hadn’t bred for a few years before that, and Draco had been ecstatic, gallivanting around with the chick for days. Harry can still see the golden sun reflecting in Draco’s hair in the afternoon, and hear Draco’s voice in his ear telling him that he could pick the name—

“What in Circe’s name are you doing here?” A familiar voice calls from the front door.

Harry stands up too fast and feels the blood rushing from his head. Collin takes one look at Malfoy glaring at them and bolts. Harry wishes he could follow. Alas, he is a man on a mission. “Especially before noon, Potter. I knew you never really had any self-respect, but honestly, this is just sad—”

“I’m here because you decided to take advantage of me last night,” Harry says angrily. Who does Draco think he is, insulting Harry’s honor at eleven in the morning on a Sunday when Draco is clearly the one at fault?

“I took advantage of you?” Draco asks, incredulously. “When?”

“When you made me dance with you… like that,” Harry says. It sounds a little weird, but Harry’s insides are all mixed up anyway just talking to Draco again, sober, which Harry decides is due to his rage about being accosted at his son’s wedding.

“I did not make you do anything. You were the one who walked up to us in the first place.”

“I wouldn’t have if Parkinson hadn’t called me over for some absurd reason.”

“You didn’t have to come! You could have just stayed in your bloody seat. Honestly, Potter, we’re almost fifty, you do have some impulse control at this point, I would hope. If you’re mad at Parkinson, go yell at her for all I care.”

“She was doing it because you asked her to, though—”

“—Potter, this is ridiculous—”

“It is not! You know exactly what you asked her to do, you and your Slytherin friends would love nothing more to manipulate me into another one of your little schemes only to tell me that I was nothing but a pastime, wouldn’t you?”

“If you think I sit here spending my days pining over you, Potter, you’d be dead wrong. I do have an ex-wife to miss, you know.”

“An ex-wife you didn’t even want to marry, and you know it. You know it was all Lucius’s doing.”

“First of all, she is now dead, and I will thank you for using some respect,” Draco says, voice quiet for just a moment. Then he mentally shakes himself. “Secondly, it’s not as if you're so bright and innocent either, Potter. At least I didn’t go off procreating with my best friend’s sister—”

“Ginny is more than that.”

“And Astoria was more than a tool in a scheme also! Do you even hear yourself?”

“Yes, Malfoy, it’s my eyes that suffer, not my ears. Honestly, ex-wives aside, why can’t you just keep your bloody friends from meddling yet again?”

“As if  _ your _ friends were entirely removed last time, Potter. Anywho, why should I care what my friends do in their free time? I have no control over them, need I remind you again, we are adults, for Merlin’s sake.”

“You have influence, though, they might listen if you just asked.”

“Oh, sure, when I’ve had three drinks too many—tell Albus thank you for the open bar though, by the way, I’ve heard it was his idea—I am certainly in a good position to order my friends around.”

“I guess I’ll tell him, but perhaps, knowing this, you might avoid having so much to drink? Consent cannot be given under the influence—”

“That’s the point, Potter, none of us were anywhere near sober, and for Merlin’s sake, no one was trying to do anything requiring sober consent except, perhaps, our sons.”

“So why drag me into whatever stupid scheme—”

“I am not planning any schemes, for the last time Potter!”

“Well, you can imagine why I have my doubts.”

“And why is that?” Draco asks angrily. His knuckles are white from gripping the door so tightly and his cheeks are flushed. His voice is full of challenge, and Harry is never one to resist a challenge.

“It’s what former Death Eaters do, Malfoy. Surely you know this by now?” Harry drawls, mimicking Draco’s posh accent, and immediately regrets it. This is sixth year all over again, honestly. Why is he even on Malfoy’s doorstep anyway?

Now Draco is livid. Malfoys are good at schooling their expression, but it’s always their eyes that will give them away. At the moment, Draco’s irises are a flat, stony silver. Harry is done for, but he’ll be damned if it’s also not kind of attractive.

“Leave my property now,” Malfoy says quietly. “Merlin knows why I even bother trying to apologize to you. Your son has better social skills than you do, Potter, and that is a very, very low bar.”

“And your son has better manners than you, Malfoy,” Harry says, if only for dramatic effect. He’s not even mad anymore. To be honest, he forgets why he was even mad in the first place. He also, conveniently, had forgotten that Malfoy sent his apology. He glares at Malfoy once more, who sneers right back at him and turns around to leave.

“Don’t expect these wards to open up again any time soon, Potter,” Malfoy spits and slams the door. 

Harry sighs. Trust him to mess this whole thing up, just when it wasn’t looking so bad. The rejection shouldn’t sting as much as it does, and Harry’s not sure why it hurts so much. Why does he care what Draco Malfoy thinks of him? 

A sad croon comes from the bushes next to him. “I know what you mean, Collin,” Harry says, and apparates home to his forgotten mug of tea.

  
  


_ Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter resume not speaking to each other, though Harry Potter does quite a lot of speaking about Draco Malfoy. _

A week or so later, Harry is out at a pub with Hermione and Ron.

“I just don’t understand how he could possibly think it was my fault,” Harry says, taking a swig from his beer.

“The main issue I have with it is what you brought up, what with consent and all,” Hermione says, biting the inside of her cheek pensively.

Ron snorts. “I don’t know, I think Malfoy kind of has a point. What was he going to do to you anyway? The only people who were really going at anything were Albus and Scorpius. I doubt they have any regrets about last night,” Ron says with a grin.

Hermione takes a generous sip from her cocktail.

“Anyway, I don’t want to have a repeat of sixth year, so if you could maybe hold back on the stalking this time, I would appreciate it,” Ron says.

Hermione rolls her eyes and places a hand over Harry’s. “Harry, I ask you this only because I’m your best friend and I care. Believe me, I really would rather not. However… are you sure this isn’t just a result of sexual frustration? We all know you two used to… date, and it’s been a long time since you’ve—”

Ron and Harry both groan to cut her off. Ron looks genuinely nauseous. 

“I am pretty sure it’s not sexual frustration,” Harry says, but as the words come out of his mouth, he feels the realization sink into his stomach that Hermione is at least partially right.

While it may not be  _ entirely _ out of sexual frustration again, he does like Draco again, he realizes, going over every interaction he’s had with the man since their sons’ mishap. 

_ Well, fuck.  _

Harry knew this was going to happen, didn’t he? And here he is, hung up on a man who dumped him when he was twenty-two. Twenty-six years ago. He is… honestly, kind of pathetic.

“Who wants another round?” Hermione says, standing up.

“Me,” says Harry emphatically.

A month or so later, the Draco Malfoy Issue has been forcefully shoved into the back of Harry’s mind, where it stays until Albus and Scorpius come over for tea again. 

“Hi Dad,” Albus says, stepping through the fireplace and hugging Harry. Harry is slightly taken aback by the action but returns the embrace.

Scorpius follows out of the floo after his husband. “Hi, Harry,” he says, reaching out to shake Harry’s hand. The metal of his wedding ring is cold against Harry’s skin. 

“Tea?” Harry asks. 

Albus and Scorpius look at each other. Scorpius shrugs and Albus turns to Harry. “Sure,” he says. 

They take their usual seats at the dining room table. “So,” Harry says, tracing the pattern of the handle on his mug over and over again, “Is this just a friendly visit, or…?”

“We’re having a kid,” Scorpius blurts out. Albus sighs—an exact imitation of his mom, though Harry will never tell him that—but he’s smiling.

Harry blinks. “You’re having a  _ what _ ?”

“A kid,” Albus says. “We were going to ease you into it, but oh well.”

“Sorry,” Scorpius says. “I’m just really excited, you know? We met the surrogate this morning, and she’s all excited too.”

“Okay,” Harry says slowly. Albus looks at him nervously, so he says, “Don’t get me wrong, I’m very excited for you, but are you sure you want to do this so young? You have your whole lives ahead of you.”

“Dad, just because you regret your marriage doesn't mean we all do,” Albus says.

“Hey, I do not regret my marriage, Albus, and I would certainly hope you two don’t, seeing as your wedding was less than two months ago,” Harry says. “You two are moving a little quickly, no?”

“Oh please,” says a voice behind him. “They’ve practically been married since fifth year.”

“James?” Albus asks. 

“Where?” says James, pretending to look around. Calea grins.

Harry groans. “Why do all my children and their partners insist on surprising me at the most inopportune times?”

“We can leave if you need it, Mr. Potter,” says Calea.

“Call him Harry,” chorus James, Albus, and Scorpius. She grins and nods.

“No, no, if it’s alright with Albus and Scorpius, you can stay,” Harry sighs.

“We’re having a baby,” says Scorpius.

James gasps as he takes a seat at the table. “Albus Severus Potter, you told me you were using protection!” he exclaims. “How could you have done this?”

Albus buries his head in his hands. “James, it may have escaped your notice, but neither one of us possess a uterus—”

“We got a surrogate,” Scorpius says bluntly. “But we are using protection, really, James. If anyone should be worried, it’s you.”

Harry sighs deeply and takes another sip of tea. “Your mother would have my head if she knew I was interrupting a conversation about protection, but I think we’ve all acknowledged that everyone is being safe—”

“Not all of us,” says James with a grin. “Dad, what about you?” 

Harry drops his head onto the table. “James, why are you here?” he asks.

“I wanted to hear Albus’s news. He said he would come over later, but I’m impatient,” James says. 

“Congratulations, guys,” Calea says over the racket.

“Thanks!” says Scorpius.

“Have you guys spoken to… Scorpius’s dad?” Harry asks. The more he says the name Draco Malfoy, the worse this will go for everyone. Especially himself, late at night, in his bed. And the shower. Not that anyone has to know about that part, though.

“Not yet. That’s tomorrow afternoon. We were going to go to James’s this afternoon, Lily’s for dinner, Ginny and Luna are tomorrow morning for brunch, then my Dad for dinner again. He’s last,” Scorpius says.

Albus snorts. “Very intentionally,” he mutters.

“You think he won’t be happy for you?” Harry asks.

“Not that,” Albus says. He looks at Scorpius, who snorts. Albus rolls his eyes but rests his head on Scorpius’s shoulder. Scorpius rubs his hand over Albus’s thigh and Albus shifts in his seat.

“Cal, you think we’ll develop telepathy on or after the wedding night?” James says, absently running his hands over his fiancé’s ring.

“On,” she says. “Definitely on.”

  
  


_ Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter’s sons have a child. _

Harry hasn’t slept in over a day, and it is  _ really _ starting to catch up with him.

He got the firecall from Albus around two in the morning yesterday, asking him to come to St. Mungo’s, since their surrogate, Sabine, had alerted them that her contractions were worsening. They’d met at Albus and Scorpius’s house. Scorpius had been panicking and Sabine was trying to calm him down while James pointed out the irony of that situation. Albus was trying to get people out the door, but Narcissa was sorting through the bag of supplies last minute and Molly Weasley was cooking up a storm—her reaction to increased stress. Lily was taking pictures of the whole affair, and Harry and Draco were pointedly ignoring each other from opposite sides of the room, Draco sniffing distastefully every five minutes or so. Harry resisted the urge to offer him a tissue as a joke.

However, it was the first time Harry had seen Draco since his revelation ten months ago, so obviously, Harry was stealing glances at Draco now and then. He could have sworn he caught Draco looking at him a couple of times as well, but chalked it up to a trick of the light and the fact that it was two-thirty in the morning. He had never quite appreciated the angle of Draco’s jawline in the middle of the night before. Well, that was a lie, but it had been a while.

After that, it was a big rush to get everyone to the hospital. At first, they didn’t have a room for Sabine since her water hadn’t broken yet, even though she was quite literally doubled over in pain in the waiting room chair at that point. Narcissa had had a word with the receptionist, who disappeared for a good hour before coming back and saying they had a room for them. Then they had all crowded into a room together, which was fine for a few hours but not helped by the fact that Molly kept randomly appearing in the fireplace with various trays of food. Harry’s pretty sure James ate most of it anyway.

As if being in a crowded space with Draco wasn’t enough, Sabine's water had broken at around nine in the morning and everyone but her, Albus, Scorpius, and Ginny had been ushered out somewhat aggressively. Harry had meant to go home, but Luna promptly handed him a large cup of coffee, sat him down, and fell asleep on his shoulder, so that was out of the question. One doesn’t simply move a sleeping Luna. 

Several hours later, Albus had come out looking somewhat white. Ron and Hermione had arrived just before that, and Albus interrupted Ron’s teasing about surviving childbirth to announce, somewhat annoyed, that they were running into complications. That shut Ron up promptly and sent Molly frantically back into the kitchen.

Around three in the afternoon, Harry had received a Howler from Headmaster Flitwick asking him where on earth he’d been for his lessons that day, and Harry had had to floo to Hogwarts to explain why he’d forgotten to fill out his form of absence and that his son was having a child. Flitwick had sighed, asked him to find a replacement for however long it was needed and shooed him away around five. Harry then had to firecall no less than five potential substitutes before finding one that was willing to cover for the next three days. When he got back around nine, he found Albus and Scorpius pacing the waiting room because Sabine still had not yet been able to give birth naturally and, if no progress was made, would need to have a C-section that night. Finally, Molly insisted on eating a large dinner in the waiting room, which got them a lot of weird looks.

After almost everyone else had left and Molly was persuaded to sleep as an alternate form of stress relief, Albus had promptly had a parenthood-induced mental breakdown, which Ginny curtly assigned Harry to deal with. Around midnight, Harry was past ready to go to bed and riding on a sleep-deprivation-induced high, so he volunteered to stay the night with Albus, Scorpius, and Draco while Sabine had her C-section, which, as it turned out, was not all that exciting of a process when you’re not allowed in the operating room.

Harry and Draco have now been sitting in the waiting room for upwards of four hours and only said about twenty words to each other, but to be honest, Harry is bored.

“We’re going to be grandfathers, Draco,” he says. “And we’re not even fifty. That’s a little strange, don’t you think?”

“I’m already fifty,” Draco says, somewhat sadly.

“Oh,” says Harry. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Me too.”

“But a life, Draco. It has our DNA in it.”

“What’s DNA?” Draco asks.

Harry snorts. “Nevermind. It’s just like… it has our blood in it, you know?”

“Merlin, Harry, it’s not us having the baby. It’s our sons.”

“You know what I mean. We had our sons, you know?”

“I suppose. Does this mean you’re not going to show up at my doorstep and seduce my peacocks and reopen old wounds in the future?” Draco asks.

Harry laughs, and it sounds too much like a giggle. “I can’t promise anything about the peacocks, but I won’t go around yelling at you anymore. Probably.”

“Thanks, Harry,” Draco says, looking at him almost… kindly?

“You look nice in this lighting,” Harry hears himself saying.

Draco snorts. “No one looks nice in this lighting. These lights are so bright, they’re pushing my eyeballs into my sockets and making me even more tired than I already am.”

Harry laughs and is about to embarrass himself more when Scorpius opens the door, looking a little stunned. “We have a child,” he says.

Draco stands up immediately. “I’ll firecall… everyone, I guess,” he says. Scorpius nods to him and ushers Harry into the room.

Sabine is passed out on the bed, but a medi-witch is scribbling furiously on some papers while Albus cradles a very small human, and suddenly Harry is overcome with the urge to cry.

“Here,” Albus says, grinning. He hands Harry the bundle, and Harry looks down. His granddaughter is currently asleep, but if his experience with Lily taught him anything, he does not hold out hope for it to stay that way.

“Name?” the medi-witch asks.

“Jeanine Andromeda Malfoy-Potter,” Scorpius says proudly.

“Dash between Malfoy and Potter,” Albus says, trying to peer at the birth certificate.

Behind him, someone gasps. “Jeanine? You didn’t,” Narcissa says.

“I did,” replies Scorpius proudly. Harry thinks this is something he ought to know, but his head is so foggy and full of caffeine that he doesn’t even bother trying to remember. Narcissa is suddenly crying and hugging Scorpius. 

Harry isn’t sure if it’s him or the floor that’s starting to sway, but just in case, he hands Jeanine off to a beaming Molly, who is immediately surrounded by Luna and Ginny.

Harry feels an arm wrap around his waist, and he knows that smell. “Can you stand?” Draco asks.

Harry laughs. “Probably not.”

“Can you apparate?”

“What does it look like, Draco?”

Draco looks at him once, all the way up and down, before saying, “Fine. You’re coming home with me.” Harry laughs again.

Draco says something to everyone that Harry can’t hear, and then they’re side-along apparating to Malfoy Manor, straight into the entrance hall.

Draco silently leads Harry up the stairs to a room that he recognizes: he used to sleep here when Lucius was home and didn’t let them share a bed.

“There’s towels in the bathroom and stuff, if you remember,” Draco says softly.

“I do,” replies Harry. The two of them stand in silence near the door for a few more moments, trying to register the fact that their sons have produced a child.

“Why did you really come to my house that day?” Draco asks.

“I miss you,” Harry says. “I like you again, Draco. Maybe what I should say is I like you still.” Draco inhales and thinks for a moment. Harry is still hanging on to his arm, and he reaches out to touch the side of Draco’s face. 

“I missed you too,” Draco whispers.

Before Harry knows what’s happening, he has backed Draco up against the wall and Harry’s mouth is very, very close to Draco’s. His head is spinning and he has no idea why, but he knows that all he needs is Draco’s mouth, if he would just—

Draco closes his eyes. “You should sleep on this decision,” Draco says, looking as if it physically pains him to say. “We’re both exhausted. You seem kind of…high.”

“I know, but—”

“Please,” Draco says, and Harry wants to make some offhand comment about begging but when he sees Draco’s eyes, he refrains. “Just think about it for one night, Harry.”

“It’s five in the morning.”

“You know what I mean,” Draco says, grinning, as he pushes Harry off him and into the bed. “Go to sleep.”

“Fine,” Harry says. “I doubt my answer will change, though.”

_ There is absolutely no way that actually happened to me last night, _ Harry thinks. He sits up and looks around, and he’s in his old bedroom at Malfoy Manor. And that’s only because he has a grandson now and hadn’t slept for two days, not because he admitted any of his long-lingering feelings for Draco Malfoy or anything. That would be absurd. He checks the time on the clock on his nightstand: 3:24 pm.

Harry slowly gets out of bed, takes a long, hot shower, and throws on his clothes from yesterday. Or this morning. He’s not sure if time is even a thing anymore.

The third stair from the top creaks on his way down to the kitchen, just like he remembers, and it almost makes him giddy with how little has changed in this house since he lived here.

Then, he walks into the kitchen to see a bleary-eyed Draco Malfoy sitting on the counter shirtless, and he’s hit with the sudden thought that he wishes he had admitted his feelings for him.

Draco notices him, and his eyes widen. He sets his cup of tea down on the counter next to his thigh. Harry wants to kiss him, and push him back on the counter, and—

“Harry,” Draco says. Harry blinks, coming back from his fantasies. “We need to talk.”

“Okay,” Harry says, pouring hot water from the kettle into a mug. His favorite mug is gone, though it was getting a little old the last time he lived here. He opens the cabinet where the tea is kept. “You’re out of Lady Grey,” he says.   
Draco snorts. “You’re the only person I know who likes Lady Grey,” he teases. Then, softer, “We only kept some here for you.”

“Oh,” Harry says eloquently and takes a scoop of Darjeeling leaves instead because of course, the Malfoys would still use loose leaf tea.

“Do you still… feel the same way you felt last night?” Draco asks bluntly as he watches Harry stir milk into his tea. Harry looks up and blinks. He didn’t tell Draco, did he? “Do you even remember?” Draco says, trying to sound lightly joking but sounding vaguely heartbroken. The sound makes Harry’s throat tighten. He comes to stand across from Draco.

“I remember how I feel,” Harry says, “I just didn’t think I’d have been brave enough to tell you.”

Draco reaches up to rub his thumb across Harry’s jaw and the three days’ worth of stubble. “You were,” he whispers. “You were brave.” Something about that just  _ does _ something for Harry, and he sets his mug down with a clunk. He, rather quickly, slots himself between Draco’s legs. Draco, in turn, adjusts them just to fit Harry, just as he’s always done. Harry wraps his hands around the nape of Draco’s neck.

“Can I kiss you?” he whispers.

“Of course,” Draco says, and then they’re kissing, and it’s even better than Harry ever remembers it being. Draco wraps his hands around Harry’s waist and pulls him closer. Harry bites Draco’s lower lip, making him moan and pull Harry even closer. Before Harry knows it, his tongue is in Draco’s mouth, and it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to him. Far too soon, they’re pulling away to breathe. Draco, lips swollen and pupils dilated, runs his fingers over Harry’s lips.

“Not going to dump me just because your dad asked this time, hm?” Harry murmurs. He expects Draco to be hurt, but instead, he laughs and continues tracing Harry’s face as if he’s trying to make a map of every detail.

“No,” he says softly. “Gave up trying to please other people a while ago.”

Harry grins and rests his forehead on Draco’s shoulder. “Good.”

“Don’t get me wrong, though. It needs to be said that I miss Astoria all the time because she was my best friend and now she’s dead, but I never loved her like that. If we’re being honest, I only ever loved you like that. I want to love you like that again,” Draco says. “I’ll need a little time, maybe not as long as last time, but… it’s all still there, isn’t it? It was always there, we were just…”

“Too stupid to see it?” Harry asks, smiling into the crook of Draco’s neck.

“Too stupid to see it.”

“I want to love you like that again too,” Harry says softly, right against Draco’s mouth.

After a pause, Draco says, “This is too much emotion for one day. We’re grandparents, for Godric’s sake.”

“Communication is key to a healthy relationship,” Harry quips. 

“You’re starting to sound like Granger,” Draco says, and Harry can hear him rolling his eyes. “We can talk about this whole relationship business later.”

Harry just kisses him again and again and again, not bothering to tell him that it’s Granger-Weasley because Draco already knows, he just refuses to acknowledge it. Finally, Harry pulls back to drink in every inch of Draco, in all that he is, soothing a thirst he didn’t know he had. He hadn’t allowed himself to register how much he missed him, didn’t know how much it hurt to miss him until, suddenly, he didn’t have to anymore. He smiles, thinking about everything the Weasleys are going to have to say about it.

“I don’t like that smile,” Draco says. “What are you planning?”

“Oh,” Harry says absently, rubbing circles on Draco’s thigh, “I have a lunch with the Weasley’s in two weeks, which, obviously, will be mostly focused on Jeanine, but I just feel like the Weasley’s haven’t had a really good, terrifying moment of revelation in a while.”

Draco smiles, his eyes alight with love and devilish rebellion. “You know what, Harry? Me neither.”

  
  


_ Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter tell their families they’re dating. Again. _

It’s been two weeks since Draco and Harry got together, and they’ve been the happiest two weeks of Harry’s life so far. Granted, when they’re not taking care of their new granddaughter, they haven’t left their bedroom for more than a couple of hours at a time, but Harry thinks they have a long time to make up for and are getting on in years anyway, so now is a better time than ever.

Ron and Hermione know, if only because they walked into the kitchen at Grimmauld Place during a rather inopportune moment of discovery involving kitchen counters and a lot of culinary-based natural lubricants. Draco regrets none of it, but Ron turns scarlet and nauseous at the very mention of olive oil these days.

They’ve been out to lunch together a couple of times and dinner once. Harry is always simultaneously surprised at how little Draco has changed in twenty-six years, and how much he’s not at all the same person Harry fell in love with back then. Harry tells Draco afterward that it’s a miracle the Prophet hasn’t caught on yet, and Draco laughs but agrees with him.

For the most part, they’ve sorted out their expectations and boundaries and all that therapy jargon Hermione is always blabbing about to Harry. It does help that they’ve had the majority of this conversation once already.

Finally, the Weasley lunch is upon them. To be honest, this will be the second time most of the Weasleys are hearing this news, so what worries Draco and Harry most is what their children will have to say about it.

“Oh, hello, Draco,” Molly says, somewhat surprised at seeing him enter with Harry for the first time since their twenties. “I haven’t seen you here in some time—but of course, your granddaughter—do come in,” she says in a rush.

Draco smiles politely at her and offers her the bottle of wine they picked up on the way to the Burrow. She takes it with a genuine smile and Harry thinks maybe she missed Draco a little too, though he knows it will take some time for his boyfriend to earn her trust again after what he did to Harry, and what he did… in general.

At the table, Ron is deep in conversation with Albus and Scorpius. Ginny and Luna look like they may have once been a part of it too, but Luna is now avidly explaining something to Ginny. Fleur, Victoire, and Bill are helping Molly in the kitchen. 

“Well if it isn’t Draco Malfoy,” says George Weasley. He steps away from his conversation with Angelina, Percy, and Audrey. “Why the return?” he asks.

“Oh, you know. My son is a father now, and all that.”

George throws his head back and laughs. The two of them, weirdly, have always gotten along, and Harry has no idea why.

“Scary, isn’t it? Weren’t we just twenty-five having kids? I like to think I’m not that old, but then your son comes along and messes up my ego.”

“Mine too, mine too,” Draco says, smiling and shaking his head.

“Time for dinner!” Arthur calls from the dining room. Draco looks at Harry who nods. 

“Actually, Mr. Weasley?” he says. “I have an announcement.”

“Oh, Harry, do be gentle on mum,” Bill says, pretending to fan himself with a napkin. “I think she’ll faint if anyone else is pregnant.”

Harry fakes a stricken look. “Well what do you expect me to do with the baby now?” he asks. Molly does blanch for a moment, gripping the table a little harder, before George starts laughing, followed by everyone else.

“On a more serious note,” Harry says, running his fingers along the edge of his jacket. He looks at Draco, who smiles. Harry decides to just go for it. “Draco and I are together again.”

A lot of things happen at once. Albus nearly drops Jeanine, so Ron, already turning scarlet all over his face and neck, instinctively reaches out to catch her. Scorpius yells “AGAIN?” at the top of his lungs and Ginny snorts. James walks up to Draco and starts threatening to hurt him if he ever hurts his dad, Lily joins him, and George attempts to persuade them to stop. Fleur reminds Harry about the dangers of getting back with an ex. Molly starts actually fanning herself with a dishcloth, but Bill is laughing harder than Harry has ever seen him. Victoire and Teddy look rather amused as well. Hermione has to physically restrain Luna from investigating Harry and Draco for Nargles, and Percy is frantically whispering to Audrey, looking rather strained. Harry is very overwhelmed until he hears the front door open.

“Mum, I’m home, sorry I’m late,” a voice calls.

Charlie Weasley walks into the kitchen. Molly stops fanning herself, Hermione and Luna stand up straight, and James takes his finger out of Draco’s face.

“Y’all okay?” Charlie asks, looking around.

“OUR DADS DATED WHEN THEY WERE OUR AGE?” Scorpius shrieks. Albus frantically transfers Jeanine soundly to Ginny’s arms before reaching out to comfort his husband, but Scorpius shakes him off. “AND THEY’RE DATING AGAIN?”

Charlie snorts. “Y’all are back together again? Good luck,” he says to Draco. “I hear Harry’s only lost his mind even more.”

“WHY IS EVERYONE OKAY WITH THIS?” Scorpius asks.

“Because we all knew about it before you were born,” Ginny says, annoyed. “Please hold your daughter, yes?”

“I think it’s great, Dad. As Aunt Hermione says, it’s important to have a well-functioning sexual—”

“Hermione Jean Granger-Weasley, what have you been telling my children?” Harry asks.

“Important things,” Hermione says, putting her hands in the air.

“No, no, no,” Ron says, burying his face in his arms.

“Oh, grow up, Weasley,” Draco says absent-mindedly.

As if on cue, half the redheads in the room plus Hermione chant, “Which one?”

Draco buries his head in Harry’s shoulder. Scorpius makes a strangled noise. “Can we go home?” Draco asks.

“No,” says Harry. “We haven’t even eaten yet.”

“Thank you,” says Ron, looking up. “No more babies. No more relationships. Let’s just eat.”

“I like the way you think, Ron,” says Charlie, and they dig in.

All in all, Harry thinks it’s a pretty successful lunch. Ron eventually returns to his normal skin color. The timeline of Harry and Draco’s relationship is cleared up for everyone, and Scorpius seems to be satisfied with it. All three of Harry’s kids, somehow, are okay with their relationship (Harry’s not sure who told them he’s lonely, though he has money on Hermione and Ginny, and he will have their heads for it). James only makes two formal death threats, much to Calea’s disappointment. Lily just hugs Draco and says she trusts him, which Draco tells her is misplaced but she just smiles at him cryptically and skips away (“That girl’s been a model of her mother since day one,” Harry tells him. He doesn't know how much Draco aches to have been there and seen it with him, but maybe one day Draco will tell him all the things he never said to Harry when they weren’t speaking. Godric, what a complete waste of time).

The rest of the Weasleys have a similar attitude to Molly. They’re excited to see Harry happy again and willing to spend lots more time with Draco, but they’re still wary, as they know what each has put the other through. Ginny comes up to him and tells him it’s about damn time he got laid again, which makes him laugh, but he assures her he is. Ginny just grins in that knowing way of hers and walks off to join Luna on the wooden swing by the tree.

Harry finds Draco sitting on the back porch steps, watching the Weasleys talk, laugh, and play in the setting sun.

Watching their family.

Harry sits down next to Draco, and Draco rests his head on Harry’s shoulder. Harry wraps an arm around his waist, and they just sit there for a moment, taking it all in.

“We still have to tell my parents,” Draco says finally.

“I don’t think Narcissa will mind,” Harry replies.

Draco leans closer to Harry. “Me neither. My dad, on the other hand, will be furious that Jeanine’s hair isn’t white blonde. There hasn’t been a brunette in our family for centuries.”

Harry laughs and kisses Draco’s forehead. “Her hair is sort of dirty blonde. I think he’ll manage.”

Draco hums. “I hope so. Don’t really fancy giving you up again.”

“Me neither, but I don’t think we have to worry about that anymore.”

Draco grins and turns his head toward Harry’s. “No,” he says. “Not anymore.”

At that moment, kissing in the sunset in front of their family, Harry just knows it will be easy to love Draco again.

Part of him always has, and all of him always will.

**Author's Note:**

> To me, this is the entirety of the series, but if anyone has ideas for other established relationship stuff (including the next-gen gang?) or maybe a prequel of some sort, let me know :) Also, I’m currently working on some other fics, so there will be more to come, though not in this particular universe.  
> Anyways, I appreciate kudos and comments more than you know, and feel free to leave feedback on my Tumblr if you prefer that (I also post there occasionally lmao):  
> https://www.tumblr.com/blog/justmaddie3706  
> Thank you for reading! I love you all and I hope your day today is at least a little bit better than yesterday :)  
> xx maddie


End file.
